His Wedding Ring
by Kaelanti
Summary: The glint of a left-behind wedding ring begins a slow unraveling toward an unwelcome truth. Please see foreword for warnings and story notes.
1. Dedication, Credits, Notes, and Warnings

**His Wedding Ring**

**by Kaelanti**

**Foreword**

**"Dedication, Credits, Notes, and Warnings"**

I'd like to dedicate this story to my daughter, whose good cheer and positive attitude always bring a smile to my face. She's a little like having an Arnold of my own around the house, albeit a female one... without a football-shaped head.

Credits for this story go to the following people:

**Craig Bartlett and Nickelodeon** - for creating the Hey Arnold! Series.

**My daughter and husband** - for being supportive about seeing me return to fanfiction.

**GTH** - for creating Body #19, which served as solid inspiration for this story.

My Readers,

It's been a very long time since I plotted out the whole of a story before beginning writing, but this one is plotted out in outline form. I have a set path I'm planning to take with it, and it includes some twists and turns that I hope will initially provide for a bit of confusion before the full plot is completely understood, but which will also hopefully make complete sense in the end.

There will be certain sections that appear to be out of character, or do not quite make sense. I invite reviewers to bring this up, but please be aware that I won't be making any editing changes until I'm completely done writing the story. At that point, I will be going back over every constructive criticism and exploring each one to ensure that it is properly responded to and dealt with.

Thank you for taking the time to read this story, and I hope you enjoy! And never fear – I will absolutely be continuing _Letters to a Young Poetess. _This story is merely fully in my head and I want to get it down before I lose it.

Yours,

Kaelanti

Story Warnings Include:

Dark Subject Matter

Angst

Relationship Problems


	2. Left Behind

**His Wedding Ring**

**by Kaelanti**

**Chapter One**

**"Left Behind"**

Helga jerked awake as the volume on the television changed from the relatively quiet movie she'd been attempting to stay awake through to the much louder enthusiasm of a man who probably didn't sell quite so many cars as his confident grin would lead her to believe. She stretched a little, frowning as she caught sight of the clock on the fireplace mantel and scowled. It was hard to believe it was already one thirty in the morning and she hadn't heard a word from her husband.

Her hand fumbled for the remote control, slender fingers patting the cushions beside her as her eyes shifted to the television once more. She still couldn't wrap her mind around the movie she'd been watching, though it likely had as much to do with the main character as with Arnold's continued absence.

Helga clicked the power button once she found the remote and was rewarded with silence. It was a relief after the way the actress' voice had begun to grate on her nerves. She still didn't quite understand the two Academy Awards it had received, given that, to her, the main character was a singularly expendable twit. But the movie had given her just once more reason to look forward to _Evil Twin: Reboot. _If the trailer was to be believed, the same actress was destined to share a well-equipped toolshed with the Evil Twin for a few moments of terrified silence before... and it was there that the trailer always cut off. Maybe the movie would give Helga a nice little scene of blood and guts to wash away the actress' sappy whining from tonight.

Helga wiggled her toes as she stretched, enjoying the feel of the fuzzy socks that encased her feet. When the stretch was over, she sagged back into the couch for a moment before getting up. As she moved, she tugged her pajama shirt down until the words printed on it once more rested directly over her breasts. She couldn't remember much about getting the pajama set, but she could remember the way Arnold had laughed the first time she'd donned the shirt and he had read it aloud. "Morning doesn't exist until I've had coffee," it said, the words accompanied by a picture of a mug filled with steaming dark liquid. She didn't wear the set every night, though it was undoubtedly her favorite sleep set.

Absently, she set her bowl in the kitchen, resolving to bother with it in the morning. She turned toward the stairs just as the phone rang. Helga grabbed the receiver, not bothering to check her caller ID; there was only one person who would call her so late at night. As she put it to her ear, the faint sound of a dial-tone droned along behind Arnold's voice.

"I'm sorry I'm running so late tonight," he said, and she recognized the guilt in his voice. She'd heard it a hundred times when they were growing up, almost always after she'd played a particularly vicious prank on him that tweaked his guilt complex. "It's going to be a while before we get out here. Go ahead and go to bed. I'll wake you when I get in," he added.

"Yeah, sure, Football Head," Helga snorted, rolling her eyes even as she dropped the phone back into the cradle. They both knew that he wouldn't actually wake her. She was too heavy a sleeper for him to wake her just to let her know that he was home. But it was the thought that counted. As she made her way upstairs, she added a mental note to call the phone company about their connection again. Something had to be wrong with their line if that dial-tone backdrop was still around.

As she sat down on the bed, however, her thoughts wandered in a different direction. It was so strange for her to stay up so late... but was it really strange for Arnold to get home so late? She couldn't remember the last time he'd made it home before she'd had to crawl to sleep, if she wanted to be coherent the next day. She had always accepted that as part of her relationship with him, and as sacrifices went, it was a pretty small one. But something about it just seemed a little off, a little too neat and tidy. Or perhaps it was her own failings that kept getting in the way of true acceptance. He was Arnold, after all, her destiny, her one true love. But this was also life, and so it was time to accept that it was not perfect, and to enjoy the time they did spend together.

That thought firmly lodged in her mind, she tucked her legs under the covers, laying back on her pillow as her hand reached to turn out the lights. But with the darkness crowding in, the thought escaped away, and loneliness took its place.

***

It was the sound of the shower that woke Helga the next morning. She reached out, but Arnold's side of the bed had already cooled and been made. _If he'd even slept there the night before_, came the unusually uncharitable thought, as Helga swung her legs off the side of the bed, her back to the neat half as she stared at the bathroom door. "Hey Arnold," she called out after a few minutes, getting up and pushing open the door enough to feel the escaping wall of too-humid air. "What time'd you get in last night?"

There was little body consciousness as she sat down on the toilet, her eyes closing as her body answered 'nature's call'. She heard the shower curtain part, and felt, rather than saw, him step out of the shower to head for the bedroom. Rather than wasting the water, she chucked her own clothes into the laundry basket and stepped into the vacated shower herself, sighing a little at the temperature. As always, he'd left it just right for her. "That late, huh?" she called out, though it really was pointless to attempt to carry out a conversation over the pounding water. She thought she heard the bedroom door close and shrugged, moving to lather her body and hair and bask in the hot flow for as long as she could stand it.

When her fingertips and toes looked like prunes and her long blonde tresses had been properly treated, she turned off the faucets and stepped back out of the bathtub, grabbing her pink towel and wrapping it around herself. A second towel went around her hair, and she flushed the toilet finally before moving to take care of the rest of her morning routine. But something felt off the whole time she worked on her teeth and the lightest application of makeup she used. By now, Arnold was usually back upstairs chatting with her, wasn't he?

She finally tossed on a comfortable pink sundress that often served her well when she was home all day to write, and headed downstairs, barefoot and happy for it. "I'm looking forward to tonight," she called out as she opened the front door to grab the newspaper, her hands automatically shedding the plastic bag around it to snap it open as her eyes skimmed the headlines. "I saw a movie with one of the actresses last night, and she was really a whiny little putz. I'm hoping the twin will make her death extra bloody, to make it up to me," she grinned, finding the section of paper she was most interested in and discarding the rest on the coffee table in the living room. She saw Arnold head toward the door, and laughed.

"Guess you're too tired for a coherent chat this morning, huh? That'll teach you to get in so late next time." In the kitchen finally, she poured some coffee into her mug and grabbed two slices of bread to drop in the toaster. The sports section was set down on the counter where she could read as she dug out a jar of jam and butter knife. Before she could do anything with either, the front door opened. "Have a good day at work, Football Head," she called out. Her only answer was the door closing behind him again.

***

When breakfast was over, Helga grabbed her laptop and headed for the living room. She arranged herself carefully on the couch after plugging it in, and started the machine up. While waiting for it to boot, she set it on the coffee table and rose to pad around the room, gathering up the few reminders of how she'd wasted all last night watching mindless drivel while waiting for her husband. There was the can of pop she'd left under the lamp, and the television guide spread over one of the throw pillows. As she moved to set the throw pillow back where it went, however, her hand stopped cold.

Under the little art deco lamp that Phoebe had given Helga a few years back glinted a circle of plain gold. She put down the pillow, reaching instead for the metal band and lifting it to examine it closely, rolling it in her fingers a bit as she frowned. "He forgot his ring," she said, her brow furrowing deeply. "He forgot his _ring_. How could he forget his _ring_?!" With each word, her voice grew more strident, more angry. She crushed her fist around the ring, and felt the edges cut into the fleshy palm at the base of her thumb. "What's he doing going out without his ring?" she added, stomping upstairs.

A quick perusal of the masculine jewelry box she'd purchased not long after they'd married revealed that he'd also left his watch behind, along with a good dozen coins. "No ring. No watch?" She shook her head. It didn't make much sense to her, but there had to be a reason behind it all. She slipped the ring into the velvet-covered cushioning so that he could find it again, and glanced once more at the watch. "Were you running that late this morning, Arnold?" she asked the air, her hand lifting to tease along the edges of the locket she wore.

Eventually, she sighed and turned away from the leather and velvet box, making her way back downstairs. "Oh well," she muttered to herself. "It's not like you're away for days. I'll ask you about it tonight." If she noticed that she was talking to herself, there was no evidence of it. She curled up on the couch, reaching for her laptop and looking out the window so that she could watch the people who passed by her door. "You can tell me before we see _Evil Twin: Reboot_ tonight, after all. And then we can talk about it more afterward, when we're eating a late dinner."

Her fingers tapped out a rhythm on the keyboard, but she paid it little mind. Her smile was back, small but fanciful as she daydreamed about the date they'd planned. The movie, then dinner out at Chez Pierre, and then back home for a little teasing and fun before they both had to go to sleep again. It wasn't a perfect date, but it would be a good one, and that was what she cared about most. The daydream kept her in pink-edged happiness for pages, her mind going over minute details. He would show up dressed for work, in that suit and tie of his that she found so irresistible. He would take her hand and lead her inside, promising to get her popcorn and drinks while she sat down. He knew everything she liked almost better than she did.

"Oh Arnold," she whispered finally, her fingers stilling on the keyboard as she let her head fall back. It snapped up again seconds later, as the shrill ring of the phone jarred her back out of her reverie. One look at the ID told her it was her editor calling for the latest manuscript. With a sigh, she answered, her words clipped and annoyed. But clipped and annoyed did nothing, and it was with a fairly thick envelope to deliver that she set out an hour later.


	3. Unexpected Sight

**His Wedding Ring**

**by Kaelanti**

**Chapter Two**

**"Unexpected Sight"**

The drive to the drop-box was relatively uneventful. She flicked on the radio halfway there, smiling a little as the low, smooth voice of the disk jockey announced another half hour of jazz, starting with a Duke Ellington favorite. Jazz would never be to her what it was to Arnold, certainly, but Helga left the radio where it was, letting the music float quietly through the car as she navigated the streets. It took no more than a few minutes to drop off the thick envelope in the box, and she decided to swing by the movie theater on the way home. It would be so much easier on them that night, she reasoned, if she already had the tickets in hand.

She pulled up alongside the cinema complex, her eyes more on the posters alongside the ticket booth than the person inside. There was the poster for _Evil Twin: Reboot, _alongside a dozen other posters that varied from the latest incarnation of _Pop Daddy _down to _Sunshine Sparkles and the Rainbow Road_. But of all the movies advertised there, only the one she was already interested in held much of her attention. She reached into her bag to pay for the two tickets, and her eyes caught a glint of blond hair across the street.

Frowning, Helga turned toward it out of instinct, blindly setting the money down on the counter beneath the booth's window as her eyes flicked along the opposite sidewalk. It didn't take long for her eyes to figure out just what it was she'd glimpsed. There was Arnold opening the door for Nadine. Helga stood still, frowning a little as she watched his hand settle against the small of Nadine's back, and watched the two of them laugh as Nadine stepped into the restaurant first. For a moment, jealousy welled up within Helga, hot and sharp. It pulsed in her head, needles that dug deep within before flaring up in a headache. But before she could do more than take a step towards the street, something else caught her attention.

There it was as his left hand lingered for a single moment on the doorway, banishing much of the fear and doubt within her. He still wore his wedding ring. Laughing softly to herself, Helga turned back to get the tickets, tucking them into her purse before heading toward his car. _Why should I worry about lunch with an old school friend?_, she asked herself. There was no answer, because there was nothing to worry about, of course. Arnold was always wanting to spend time with their friends. She had nothing to worry about at all...

***

By the time Helga arrived home, the headache had ramped up to a pounding pain. Helga stalked into the house, dropping her keys on the table beside the door before heading for the upstairs medicine cabinet. With each step she took, she went over the scene again in her mind. Reassuring herself that there was nothing to fear about hadn't completely erased the worry within her.

Arnold had seemed extra handsome that day, in fact. The deep green of his shirt brought out the brighter green of his eyes, and as he'd turned toward Nadine, Helga had glimpsed an indigo tie she couldn't quite recall. Then again, she reminded herself as she opened their closet to dig out a loosely comfortable shirt that dropped to her knees. She shed the sundress in favor of it, draping the pink cloth over a nearby chair.

From there, she made her way into the bathroom to dig out a couple of Tylenol and wash the makeup from her face. She tugged off her ring for that, smiling at it for a long moment before setting it on the counter beside her. If she could just get herself completely comfortable, then the headache would be gone before the movie that night. Finally, her face clean, the tablets swallowed, and her hair down, she made her way to her bed.

Stretching out felt good to her, the sheets cool where they touched her bare legs and the soft pillow soothing the back of her neck. Thick curtains, striped white and moss green, kept out the bulk of the sunlight, so that when Helga closed her eyes, it was almost perfectly dark. She drew the green and pink floral sheet up so that it rested lightly over her, and curled one arm against her stomach. The other stretched above her head, her legs askew as she sought comfort. For several long minutes, she concentrated on nothing but the pain. And then, she was concentrating on nothing at all.

***

_"Oh Helga," Arnold was saying, his eyes warm as he took both of her hands in his own. She looked down, noting the white gloves they both wore, and how he was clad in a dashing tuxedo, and blinked for a moment before recalling just where she was. "I love you so very much. I can't live without you, my beautiful bride," he added, as she smiled softly at him. _

_She felt exquisite in the white lace of the wedding dress she wore, the way the stained glass windows around them were lit by bright sunlight, so that her dress almost appeared to shimmer with mottled iridescence. He'd tamed his hair into submission, and he looked debonair, almost like he'd come out of one of those old movies her sister sometimes watched. She stepped a little closer, and he smiled warmly at her._

_"Oh, Arnold," she breathed softly, loving the way his eyes never left her. She felt like the most beautiful woman in the entire world. His gaze seemed almost... worshipful to her, and she barely resisted the urge to spin around, letting her gown flare out. Instead, she started to reach up to move her veil. But he beat her to it, his hands releasing hers to carefully move the transparent fabric, so that there was nothing blocking her sight from the candy-green of his eyes._

_"Say you'll be mine forever, Helga," he whispered to her. His left hand caught hers again, but his right reached for the simple gold band, carefully slipping it onto her finger. Funny, the shiver that went through her as he did so, letting the metal warm with the pulse from her heart's blood. It fit perfectly, twinkling a little against the soft peach of her skin, and Helga spared only a moment to wonder whatever had happened to the white glove she'd worn. But the glove wasn't as important as the day was, as the vows were, as the knowledge that she was finally and forever bound as Arnold's wife._

_"I do, my love," she cried out, gripping his hands and stepping close. There was nothing but joy in her words, and a need to share her happiness with the entire world. "I do! I do! I do!" As she sang the words out, the crowds behind them cheered their wedding. With the emotion bubbling up inside her, she couldn't quite stop herself. She spun away from him for a second, the move based on the joy she felt, and then she was back to facing him, and she flung herself forward..._

...onto the ground, as the sheets tore off the bed with her. Helga blinked, looking around her room in confusion before slowly sitting up. It had been ages since she'd knocked herself out of the bed, but it was worth it, to remember their wedding day so vividly. As the dream returned to her, her lips curled in a happy smile and she disentangled herself.

If she got up then, she had time enough to do her makeup and find a nice dress to wear for the movie and dinner afterward. She could put her hair up in that soft twist he liked so much, leaving tufts down around her ears to invite his touch. And she'd bought that blue dress just last week. He'd never even seen her in it before now. It would, she thought, make a perfect date outfit.

There was something blissfully content about the way she moved around the room, humming snatches of song under her breath. Her application of makeup was slow and exacting. Tweezers never came close to her face, but Arnold's always loved the strength in that brow of hers. She'd suggested to him a few times, hesitantly, that perhaps it was time she started to shape her brow. But rather than encourage her, he'd only reassured her how much he loved her as she was, striking brow and all.

Her lips were perfectly lined with a rich, shimmery red that just matched the color she spread over her nails. The faintest hint of warmth was the only visible sign of rouge, and she used every trick she'd ever learned to bring out the color of her eyes as her mind lingered in that dream once more and the way he hadn't been able to look away from her. "Windows to the soul," she muttered, lining them finally with black before moving to put away all of her makeup.

The dress she pulled on was a soft blue, faintly shimmery and perfect for the spring season. Stockings joined it, and then shoes, and eventually, it was time for the final touches. She moved to the jewelry box, digging through the few pieces she owned for the pearl set she intended to wear. Still lovesick from her dream, she took out a moment to touch Arnold's ring before fastening the strand around her wrist and neck, and moving to put in her earrings. When those were done, she retrieved her ring and put it on, then stood in front of the full-length mirror, beaming at it as she turned.

Dressing up for Arnold had always made her feel exquisitely beautiful, and this moment was no exception. She found herself murmuring soft words as she imagined Arnold there behind her, the way his hands might skim over her sleeves up to her shoulders, his thumbs teasing against the soft skin at the sides of her neck as he would lean in to whisper how beautiful she was against her ear. Her hand lifted, splaying over her chest as she pressed it tight, savoring the tight feeling that was her love for him.

But it would do no good for that love to keep her home when they had a date planned. So finally, she turned away from the mirror and her daydreams to fetch her purse and keys. She hadn't gotten much writing done, but that wasn't anything to worry over. She could write tomorrow or the next day, and just make up the lost time. Whistling cheerfully, she closed the door behind her and locked it tight, then made her way to the car. The tickets were in her purse, her husband would meet her at the theater, and all was right with the world.


	4. Stood Up

**His Wedding Ring**

**by Kaelanti**

**Chapter Three**

**"Stood Up"**

There was still a slight nip in the March air, that faint tingle that's just cool enough for a jacket while still being beautifully spring. Helga had expected it, and drew the white wrap more firmly around her shoulders as she stood just outside the movie theater, looking down at the two tickets in her hand. She had felt so beautiful as she'd left the house earlier, but now that it was only a few minutes until the start of the show, she was feeling so much less so.

Helga looked up at the theater's facade, her eyes traveling over the false stone. The street lamps and bright outside lights somehow made the cracks darker, as though some deep, splintering crevasse had formed outside of the building. Soon, her writer's imagination suggested, teasing her with mental images, the building would collapse down to rubble, taking with it everyone inside. As that happened, there would be nothing left but a pile of stone and flesh debris, highlighted by the flickering of one last movie.

The unhappy thoughts pulled Helga's lips into a frown, and she sighed, looking back out to the street. Her car was parked, the meter it rested near merrily ticking away the time. But Arnold was nowhere to be seen. "In the movies," she whispered, as she made her way toward the car, "it'd be raining right about now." But it wasn't a movie, and the rain refused to come. The night remained bright and beautiful, the faintest hint of stars shining through city lights and the moon glowing beautiful and full.

Helga opened the car door and set the ticket on the dashboard in the front window, just over the steering wheel. So Arnold was running late, she chided herself, shoulders straightening as she made her way back to the theater and inside. He'd find the ticket when he arrived, and would sneak in to sit down beside her. She could always tell him about the bits he'd missed later, or they could plan another trip to see it.

She kept the wrap tight around her as she handed her ticket over to the teenage collector. When he looked at her, she gave him a solemn glare, brow deepening over unhappy eyes. It was barely a breath before he looked away again, mumbling the number of the screen where the _Evil Twin_ previews were already playing. Somehow, his mousy reaction cheered Helga a bit, and she strode forward toward the designated screen. Her walk was purposeful. Though she couldn't hear it on the carpeting of the hallway, she still imagined a sharp click-clack from her high heels. It was a poised, determined sound, one that cried out ambition and strength.

She reached the screen room and stepped inside, pausing as her eyes adjusted to the darkness and her ears to the noise. Screams and cries echoed from the speakers, and the bright flash of glinting steel fought with the warm ruby of dripping movie-blood from the screen as Helga made her way to a pair of empty seats. She set her wrap atop the one closer to the stairs, then nestled into the plush, her eyes on the last few seconds of a horror preview. There was the song and dance about turning off cellphones and depositing trash in the proper receptacles, and Helga rolled her eyes through those. But as the movie itself finally came on, she lost herself in the story, forgetting everything but the characters on the screen.

***

The ticket on her dashboard hadn't been touched. Helga had come back to herself as the credits began to roll, and turned to see that no one had disturbed her wrap. She'd walked out of the cinema silently, cloth held tight against her body as though it could bind away the ache in her heart. She found the ticket right where she'd left it for him, and angry hands reached to take it and tear it to pieces, tossing it on the ground with little care for the act of littering. Her drive home was blank, and though she was hungry she chose not to stop anywhere.

"Why, Arnold?" she whispered, pain in her voice. But in the empty car, there was no answer for her. She got into her house around ten, abandoning her heels halfway up the stairs, and the wrap over the handrail. She reached for the light as her bedroom door opened, then paused, seeing a dark shape already in bed. It took a moment to keep her hands from curling into fists, but she closed the door, shedding her dress and draping it over a chair, ignoring the way shimmery blue looked atop pink in the dim light from the streetlamp. Her pearls were discarded into the jewelry box, her wedding ring placed beside Arnold's.

As she made her way to the bathroom, she caught sight of a flash of white paper on her bedside table, and took it with her, waiting until the door was closed and the light on to read it. _Sorry_, it said in black ink, the handwritten words more of a scrawl than anything else. _So tired, going to bed. See you tomorrow._

Ol' Betsy made a ball of the paper. There had been no words of love left there, not even a hope that she'd enjoyed the movie. There was no hint at all that this was her beloved Arnold, save for the familiar scrawl he used when he was too tired to do anything else. She wanted to throw the paper against the window and see the glass there shatter. But paper wasn't strong enough to break the mirror, and Helga wasn't quite angry enough to throw something else. So the crumpled note ended up in the trash, nestled amidst discarded tissues adorned with lipstick.

Helga scrubbed her face clean, then stood there, her arms propping her up as she held her dripping face squarely over the sink. Her blonde hair offered a curtain that shielded her from view as she let her tears mix with the water, watching both drip down to land on white porcelain and slide toward the silvery drain. "We'll go next week," she whispered, trying to tell herself that it would be okay. "It's just a movie."

It wasn't just a movie, really, but she kept repeating the words until she could say them without her voice hitching. For a moment, the memory of Arnold's hand resting against the small of Nadine's back returned. He hadn't said anything to her about getting together with Nadine for lunch... had he?

"It was just a last minute thing," Helga finally said to herself, reaching for the hand towel and using it to scrub at her face until her skin was slightly pink from the rough cloth. "She must've gone to see him at his office, and since they were both free, he invited her to lunch. He'd do the same thing for Sid, or Stinky, or even Curly," she reminded herself, and felt a little better for it. Arnold was thoughtful like that, after all. It was what drew her to him, and kept her hovering about even when she didn't understand him.

"That's exactly it," she decided, tossing her undergarments in the hamper before wrapping herself in a satiny robe and making her way back to the dark bedroom. She stood beside the bed for a few minutes, then let the robe pool on the floor. The sheets were cool against her skin as she slipped inside and snuggled up to the bulge that was his sleeping form. Her arm draped over the soft skin of a hip, her face pressed close to his neck. As she closed her eyes, the scent of aftershave, faint and musky, slipped back to her. She fell asleep wondering whether it was the same aftershave he'd put on that morning.

***

Sunlight teased through the white curtains, the warmth of it resting on Helga's cheeks and eyelids for long moments before she slowly woke. There was no hint of Arnold in the room beyond the faint musk of aftershave lingering. Helga sat up slowly, looking around for a solemn moment before sighing. "Past ten," she whispered into the sunshine cheer of a beautiful bright day. "He must've let me sleep." She got up, feet resting flat on the carpet as the chill air bit at her naked body. For a few moments, it was difficult to dredge her memory of what she had planned that day. But as sleep began to fade, she remembered only writing.

Writing called for worn jeans and a loose, overlarge t-shirt, her hair up in a messy ponytail and not a touch of makeup on her face. It called for bare feet, and a coffee pot full to the brim. It called for cream and sugar, and a bagel with cream cheese for breakfast. And, if she was feeling lazy, another bagel for lunch. But it didn't call for dressing up, or bothering about Arnold. When he was ready to talk to her, he would talk to her. In the meantime, she'd slip her wedding ring on, glad of the absence beside it that suggested he'd taken his wedding ring with him that day.

Olga called as Helga was finishing up her breakfast. There was no real reason for the call, but Olga was like that. She still called Helga her 'baby sister', and still tried hard to bond with a sister who made no sense to her. But now that she had matured, Helga was more willing to accept that this was simply another part of Olga. And even though she didn't encourage her sister, she didn't shove her away any longer. They were kin, and there was at least a tiny hint of connection there.

"So how's Arnold?" Olga's bright and sunny voice asked, and Helga started a little at the question. After the upset of the night before, it was hard to know how to answer such a question. But there was silence on the other end of the phone, silence with a waiting quality to it.

"He's... fine," Helga finally said awkwardly, shoving away the plate in front of her to rest her chin on her palm. "He's... been acting a little strange lately."

"Strange how?" Olga asked. Helga could mentally picture the way Olga's head would tilt a little to one side, her short blonde hair teasing at the corner of one eye and her lips curled in a hesitant, 'I-don't-get-it' sort of smile.

"He's been ignoring me," Helga admitted after a second, glad they were talking on the phone. She could never have said anything had they been face to face. And if she _had_ managed such an admission, she would've been grabbed up by strong, skinny arms and hugged tight. "He forgot about our date last night. And... I saw him having lunch with Nadine."

"Oh, Baby Sister," Olga clucked. For a brief moment, Helga's mental image shifted away from a curiosity-tilted head toward an Olga-chicken, and she balled her hand into a fist, pressing it hard against her lips. She felt her teeth digging into the soft inner skin of her mouth, and kept her fist there, knowing that if she pulled her hand away, the laughter would escape her and possibly offend Olga.

"Didn't you tell me that Arnold started a new promotion just last week? He's working different hours now, isn't he?" Helga managed to squawk out a sort-of reply, but it was enough for Olga. "That's all this is, Baby Sister. He's just getting accustomed to working new hours. There's no possible way that it could be anything else. Not when he has someone as beautiful as you to come home to."

Olga was gushy, and girly, and too-perfect, but sometimes even she knew the right thing to say. The laughter faded from Helga, and she relaxed back in her seat. "You think?" she whispered into the phone, and was rewarded with a bright, sunny laugh from Olga.

"I know, Baby Sister. I know..."


End file.
